A Room He Does Not Enter
by GirlWithTheInkBlackQuill
Summary: There are many rooms in the infinite TARDIS, but one the Doctor avoids at all costs. This is what the TARDIS keeps for her Thief to remind him of those he last lost - and those he has yet to find.
1. Where the Doctor Does Not Tread

There is a place he does not go.

Inside the infinite universe tucked neatly in a police telephone box from 1960, there is a room in which the Doctor does not dare tread. It is not that he can't find it, because every time he changes the desktop and gets lost, he stumbles upon it. If he goes for a swim, he finds it. If he heads for the library, he finds it. The TARDIS does not appreciate his attempts at evasion and forces this unwanted room upon him with such force that he wouldn't be surprised one day if he walked into the control room and found the other room instead. His old girl was nothing if not stubborn.

But this was a day he did not need stubbornness.

Manhattan is still raw in his hearts. River is deposited back into her flat, which is a painful reminder how very close to the Library she is. He never thought he would ache to wish her well from the threshold of the Stormcage.

Currently, he's parked in Victorian London. A nice cloud keeps the questions at bay, although it is only a matter of time before Vastra and Jenny will be hammering on his door and asking questions he is not capable of answering.

The Doctor isn't paying attention as he strides through the new halls of the TARDIS. He misses the warmth of the old console, but all he can see is Amy lounging against the controls and Rory toying with things he shouldn't and Brian sitting for three days to watch a cube on the Doctor's orders. He always had a sneaking suspicion that the TARDIS, upon remodeling itself after the crash in the garden, altered the desktop to match the particular shade of Amy's hair and the fire which fueled her need for adventure. The fire that would lead her to Manhattan, to the angels, to the edge of a roof looking over 1938.

That fire would give her the courage to leap.

When he had returned from escorting River safely home, upon turning the key, he stepped into a world of blue circuitry. The Doctor had not changed the background to this, but also didn't have the hearts to change it back as it had been. And so he let the TARDIS mourn in her own way.

These were the thoughts that crowded in the Timelord's mind as he took three sharp turns past the swimming pool. His hands fiddle with a small key that he has slipped from his pocket. This is always one of the worst parts. Just as he did for all the others, it is time to lock up the Ponds' room.

The TARDIS is both kind and cruel enough to line them up at this point in time.

He passes Rose's first. It's a relatively blank door, save for the scribbles in her loopy hand that read _"Property of Rose Tyler – KNOCK Before Entering, Doctor!" _He can still see her, a young traveler full of fresh wonder, adding her personal mark on the TARDIS with his hand helping her steady the laser engraver. The next part had been added hastily with a tube of lipstick, drawn on shortly before her encounter with Torchwood. "My room, my rules," she had said with an eye-crinkling smile before closing the door behind her.

Next is Martha's. She had glued a plaque of hers onto her door that read MARTHA JONES, M.D. in small capital letters. "I want this back," she had intoned seriously as he handed her the glue bottle. "It was a birthday present from my mum and I intend it to sit on my desk someday." She never did ask for its return.

Sitting third in line is Donna's bedroom door. It's the only one with built-in lettering, as if the door had been built specifically for her. Of course, it had been. After several weeks of trying to graffiti her name onto her door, Donna had found that the TARDIS refused all attempts of the sassy redhead to claim her property. The Doctor had followed a source of commotion to find her having a shouting match with a silent and inanimate door. "Listen here, box, I don't care how special you are, you're giving me a door whether you want to or not! I'm a long term passenger, so you might as well deal with it!" The next day, in golden letters, the title DONNA NOBLE appeared on the door – along with the phrase _Sassy Earth Girl _added underneath.

At this point, the Doctor believes that he has reached the Ponds' door. He is too caught up to notice that it is missing the traditional markings. That the word _Ponds _is not scribbled in Amy's warped writing and Rory's additional message – KNOCK DOCTOR – is absent. Instead he reaches for the handle and pulls open the door and does not think to wonder why it is unlocked until it is too late.

The TARDIS is tricky and oh, _so _clever.

The Doctor makes a frantic scramble for the door, clawing desperately at the white smooth wall that the door has disappeared into. Finding nothing, he turns slowly, sinking down against the wall onto the floor of the room he never enters.

The blank white walls enclose a long pathway that disappears into the darkness. He does not want to accept that the only way out is forward. With the weariness of an old man, the Doctor shows each of the thousand years he has lived as he struggles to rise. With the deliberateness of one enduring torture, the Timelord takes his first step.

The white walls spring alive. Where once there was only a blank panel, a video screen turns on. After a short moment of static, the Doctor's personal hell begins...

With a laugh.


	2. Rose

"Doctor, do you have a recorder thingy in here?" Rose Tyler squints into the camera, obviously positioned on the console.

"It's a time machine, Rose, I've got more thingies in here than you can imagine," comes the distant reply. Tinged with a Northern accent. The current Doctor stares with horror as he calculates when this is for them. Before the Game Station, certainly.

In the video, Rose lets out a short laugh.

"Jack, come say hello to the Doctor's secret cameras."

The captain moves into frame as Rose makes room for him. "Goodness, Doctor, I can't imagine what you do with these," he grins, winking to the unknown viewers. Oh, Jack. Mortal, normal Jack.

"Certainly not what you would use them for, Captain," comes the reply from off screen.

"You so sure there, Doctor? I couldn't persuade you?" Jack asks as Rose tries to stifle her laughter. There is the sound of metal on metal as the Doctor in the video moves closer to the camera.

"I honestly wouldn't put it past you, Jack," he says, very close now. "No more cameras for either of you. Now come on, we've got to stop and fuel up at the Rift."

Rose sobers instantly. "Can I invite Mickey?"

The edge in the Doctor's voice is palpable. "If you insist."

"Yeah, I do, thanks," says Rose on screen, her eyes narrowing.

There is a sharp jab of pain hovering somewhere inside the Doctor's ribcage. Oh, Rose. Brilliant, wonderful gorgeous Rose.

What if he had not been so terribly selfish? Why couldn't he have just left the two of them well alone? And Jack, why did the Doctor have to burden him with the empty loneliness that marked immortality?

"I'm sorry," the current Doctor murmurs, turning away from the video screen in shame. There is a quiver to his voice that makes him thankful for the solitude.

"Did you hear that?" says Rose suddenly from the screen. The Doctor whirls around, fully facing the screen in front of him. No. The TARDIS has her cruelty, but surely she has _limits _as well. No, not a time rift, not here...

"I didn't hear anything," says Jack awkwardly, looking between Rose and the off screen Doctor.

"No, I heard something," Rose insists, all of her anger replaced with confused curiosity. "Everyone, be quiet. Doctor, can you stop fiddling with that?" The sound of the Doctor messing with controls quiets as Rose cocks her head to the right, listening.

"Rose?" the current Doctor whispers, fresh horror surfacing.

"Something's saying my name," she says quietly, her eyes searching the TARDIS. "I can hear it." She closes her eyes. "Like a whisper."

Jack is pushed out of the way as the Doctor finally enters the screen. Cropped dark hair and a leather jacket answer any remaining questions about when in the timeline this is. His hands curling protectively around her shoulders, he pulls her gently away. When she begins to protest, his voice is cautious. "Get away from the camera, Rose."

"Why are you doing this?" hisses the current Doctor, turning once more from the screen to glare at the room. "You are messing with _time!_"

Just as the Doctor on screen opens his mouth to answer, the video feed cuts off into static.

"Let me _out!_" shouts the man in tweed, the key to the Ponds' room still heavy in his pocket. "This is not a _game!_"

At that point, the white floor springs into motion. Blue circuits race down the hall into the darkness. A path of breadcrumbs to follow. Of course. The only way out is through.

"Why?" asks the man, but all the anger is gone. There is only a deep sadness left. An endless hollowness in his voice. With a heavy sigh, he takes the next step forward. The next white wall panel lights up with a scene that is both the past – and the present.

"Why?"

The Doctor's question is echoed by the next familiar face on screen.


	3. Martha

"Because it _my _TARDIS, _my _ship, and _my _rules!"

"You sound so childish right now," remarks Martha acidly onscreen. She is leaning on the console as the Doctor – just a flash of blue suit – runs in and out of frame as he whirls around wildly, flying the TARDIS. At one point, he pauses, reaches around Martha and towards the camera, and pulls a small lever.

"I bet you let Rose drive the TARDIS," continues Martha sourly, crossing her arms and turning to face the off screen Doctor. The current Doctor opens his mouth to remark before remembering the last panel. What had he always told his companions? _Not to mess with time! _Not that he had ever been very good at obeying that rule, but still... when his own ship turned against him...

"No!" cries the invisible Doctor. "Never!"

Martha raises an eyebrow.

"Once," the Doctor concedes. "Maybe twice." As Martha's glare grows more pronounced, he amends, "Alright, a bunch of times, but she was... more experienced with time travel!"

The Doctor bursts into the range of the camera, moving Martha to the side in order to type in some coordinates. "Besides, you don't _drive _the TARDIS. She's not a car. You can't just... stick in a key and push a few pedals and land in the seventeen nineties."

"Really?" asks Martha dubiously. "So, Mr. Timelord, what would happen if I pushed these buttons?" She points to a cluster of blue buttons in front of her.

The current Doctor's hand flies to his mouth to stop himself from crying out. _Stabilizers! _he shouts mentally. _Blue stabilizers! _He can still see River en route to the Byzantium, all blond curls and red heels as she piloted. And Amy, unknowing who exactly she was watching, laughing in amazement.

On screen, the action continues without heed to the Doctor's painful memories.

"Those blue ones?" the Doctor asks Martha uncertainly.

"Yeah, these blue buttons right here, what do they do?" she persists, sensing his discomfort.

"Stuff, just stuff, important, flying stuff," the Doctor mutters pitifully from the other side of the console.

"You don't know, do you?" says Martha triumphantly, seizing the opportunity. "You don't know what half this junk is but you still pretend to be the expert!"

"I _am_ the expert!" cries the Doctor, his pride wounded. "I've piloted this ship for centuries!"

"And you still don't know what the little blue buttons do," says Martha with finality, shaking her head incredulously.

"Listen, you stay put, I've got to grab another cufflink for this stabilizing matrix," the Doctor says, as if the previous exchange had never happened.

"Yeah, that's right, run away from all your problems," mutters Martha as the Doctor sprints deeper into the TARDIS. "Can cut open bodies and save lives, but no, Martha Jones can't fly a blue box." Peeking over her shoulder, she then returns to studying the console.

Inside the future TARDIS, the Doctor becomes aware of a feeling of dread. No. Martha, no. He watches in horror as she reaches out a hand towards a tiny purple switch. Hand still clamped over his mouth, the Doctor struggles desperately.

"I can fly you," Martha says in a sudden moment of hubris. Before the Doctor can do anything, she flicks the switch.

"NO!" shouts the Doctor from inside his white-walled prison.

On screen, Martha looks around wildly, recoiling from the console. "Who's there?" she asks, panicking. In the white hallway, the Doctor curses himself. Scrambling, he tries to think of a plan. That was not a good switch to hit. He's got about five minutes to get the TARDIS piloting normally again before – well, bad things. Bad things involving locked rooms in the TARDIS, even worse than this one. If one needed to be particularly specific, it involved bad things and a fish. A fish that was not a fish.

Okay, five minutes.

Five minutes before the old TARDIS crashes and the current TARDIS gets destroyed. Not good. Pacing desperately as Martha continues to search for the mysterious voice, the current Doctor flails in an effort to think. Finally, he stops just as Martha appears back on screen. Clearing his throat, the Doctor shouts through the time rift:

"THIS IS TARDIS PROTOCOL – " he fumbles for a moment "er, TWO."

"You have a voice?" says Martha in wonder, staring up at the time rotor.

"_Of course _it does," slips out of the Doctor's mouth.

"What did you just say?" she asks in confusion.

The Doctor glances at his watch. Four minutes.

"Not important! Just, do as I say, _exactly! _The TARDIS - I mean, _I_ need to return to regular orbit very, _very _quickly!"

"No wonder he likes you," says Martha. "You sound just like him."

Inside the hall, the current Doctor struggles to contain his sigh of exasperation and instead settles for a dramatic shrug.

"Listen carefully," the Doctor instructs as patiently as he can. "White button."

On screen, Martha slowly searches for the correct button.

"Quickly! It's big and white!"

"Alright, alright," says the companion defensively, slamming her hand on the off screen button.

"Good, now red lever, two panels to your right." Martha moves out of screen for a moment before returning to her original position.

"Got it," she says, addressing the time rotor.

"Excellent, now blue buttons right in front of you!" the Doctor cries. Two minutes.

And so it went. Orange knob, black button, green ball, foot pedal.

_"Which foot pedal?" _cries Martha, now looking positively disheveled after sprinting around the console.

"THE ONE TO YOUR LEFT!" shouts the Doctor desperately. Thirty seconds. Twenty. Ten.

There is a great hiss of air on the screen as Martha returns to the camera. There is a slight wobble as the TARDIS readjusts and relaxes into her usual flight pattern.

"How'd I do?" asks the aspiring doctor wearily.

"Brilliant, Martha Jones, absolutely wonderful!" cries the Doctor in relief. His tweed jacket is abandoned on the white floor, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair standing wildly on end.

"Martha!" The on screen Doctor sprints into the console room, breathing heavily. "I felt something, did you touch something?"

"No," replies Martha instantly with a reasonable amount of confusion. "Dunno what you're talking about."

"Maybe we hit a bit of space junk or something," the Doctor says with a furrowed brow, once again repositioning Martha to have access to the keyboard. "Love a bit of space junk, good souvenirs. Do you think your mum would like a space rock?"

Martha doesn't seem to be paying attention. She stares at the time rotor before saying, "Your TARDIS sure does have an attitude, Doctor."

"What?" asks the Doctor, still typing and only half listening.

"Protocol two or whatever. It sounds a lot like you."

She has the Doctor's full attention now. "Martha, there is no protocol two." Slowly, the on screen Doctor turns to stare directly into the camera. A slight chill runs down the spine of the current Doctor as he stares at his former face.

"Not again," murmurs the Doctor of the past.

And the wall panel turns once more to static.

"Are you through?" the Timelord asks the blank room as he collects his coat and swings it over his shoulder.

The answer comes as the next panel – a number of meters down the path – lights up with static.

Before the image has even loaded, the audio kicks in.

_"Doctor!"_


	4. Donna

There is a wave of static before an empty TARDIS flickers to life on the screen.

"DOCTOR!" The carrying voice of Donna Noble echoes in the empty space. In the white corridor, the current Doctor stares helplessly at the screen, his tweed jacket thrown over his shoulder.

"Yes, Donna, you go wait for me in the TARDIS, I'll be there in a moment," huffs Donna as she enters the view of the camera, mimicking the Doctor. "More like wait while I'm getting a nice snog from the princess with two heads."

She pokes halfheartedly at a few of the switches, absently whittling away the time. Still, the Doctor does not lose interest. He stares at the image, stares at Donna Noble in the TARDIS. Donna, with all her memories still intact. Donna Noble, Super Temp. His hearts ache as he stares up in horror at the woman he would someday cause the demise of. Not technically, no, but he had done his fair share. Rose, yes, she had lived on in a parallel world with a Doctor of her own, Martha had Mickey and had grown to be her own person, but Donna... She went back to being a temp, scraping together what happiness she could find. The lottery ticket on her wedding was a nice gesture, but money was not happiness.

On screen, Donna settles in one of the chairs and takes out her mobile. Entering a number and pressing the phone to her ear, she scans the TARDIS in anticipation for the Doctor's return.

After a moment of silence, the TARDIS hacks the call. "No," breathes the Doctor, careful not to disturb the past again. "Stop this!"

Now the other end of the line is audible, a shrill ringing quickly replaced with a gruff, "Hello?"

Donna leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Hey, Gramps."

"Donna!" On the other end, on Earth, Wilfred Mott sounds absolutely ecstatic. "Donna, my sweet! Are you calling me from space?"

"Yeah," says Donna, trying to play it cool and just barely failing. She gets up and begins to pace around the console, walking in and out of frame. "We just got back from this one planet – Sorrochun, something like that – and the people have horns growing right out of their heads." She laughs shortly at her grandfather's gleeful gasp.

"Really? Do they decorate 'em, wear bracelets and stuff on 'em?" inquires Wilf happily.

"Nah, but the royal family's got two heads. They eat daisies. Well, space daisies. They call them something else." She toys once more with a lever on the console, pausing in front of the camera. "We saved them from some weird toxin in the water, it was making them hallucinate. They started fighting each other. It was horrible."

"But I bet the Doctor sorted it all out, didn't he?" Wilf responds instantly. Something almost like a physical pain stabs at the Doctor's left heart. This old man's faith in him will be his death. So many had trusted him. Donna. Martha. _Amy_. The key in his pocket was a painful reminder of why he had come. Of how many people had followed him to their deaths.

"Yeah. Bit of charm, bit of sonic. All sorted. He was having a chat with the Princess when I left."

Wilf laughs. "I hope he's not into girls with two heads."

"He can be into whoever he likes, Gramps," says Donna firmly. "He's an alien. He complimented a half-fish person at the market last week. Oh! Reminds me, I got you a bit of space rock, picked it out myself. The Doctor took me to this asteroid belt and let me choose. It's from way back. Probably was whirling around the Earth when the dinosaurs where still kicking."

Their chatter goes on for a few more minutes. Unlike the last video link, the Doctor has no desire to interfere. He has taken a seat on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed like a child. Listening to the both of them... It breaks his hearts, but he can't seem to look away. She never called her grandfather when he was present. But now... The Doctor had a glimpse into another life of Donna Noble, one that didn't end with her memory being wiped. Her grandfather would still be there for her, even as a temp. It does not ease his burden, but perhaps allows him a slight reprieve.

"Donna!" The Doctor on screen charges into the console room, tossing his long brown overcoat into the chair that she had recently vacated.

"I call you back later, Gramps. Love you," Donna says shortly before snapping the phone shut.

"Was I interrupting?" asks the Doctor, eyeing the phone warily.

"No. Just passing the time. What did the Princess want?" she counters, leaning on the console.

"Funny enough, um... your hand in marriage," says the Doctor, purposefully not looking her in the eye.

"My hand? Then why didn't she ask _me_?" Donna appears torn between affronted and confused.

"Well, er, she, um... wanted my hand as well," mutters the Doctor, reddening noticeably.

"What, _both_ of us?" asks Donna, settling for confusion.

"Well, two heads," says the Doctor with a slight grimace. "Now, where off to? I'm thinking Tellfor. Second solar system populated by humanity. Record for the worst traffic and the best food until Planet of the Coffee Shops opened."

"Sounds just like London to me," responds Donna cheekily. "Why don't we stop off, visit my family? You know, just for a bit."

"Yeah, sure, 'course! Any day in particular?"

But Donna is no longer listening. Staring intently at the camera, she slowly turns her head. "What's that blinking red light? The tiny one, right there." She stretches out her finger, almost brushing the lens.

"Get back."

The Doctor is ready this time. He replaces Donna in the screen, sonic out and already primed. "If I can just establish a two-way feed, I can see who's on the other side..."

"What – you means it's a _camera_?"

"I've seen it before. It's like it has a defense system to be shut off when recognized. Not this time, though." Gritting his teeth and trying various frequencies with the sonic screwdriver, the on screen Doctor growls with frustration.

In the blank hall, the current Doctor rises to his feet, pulling out his own screwdriver. Extending it, he sonics the screen in hopes of contradicting the force on the other side of the screen. Seeing his companions was one thing, but his past self is not allowed a glimpse of the future. "Work with me here," says the current Doctor to his TARDIS. "_Help me!_"

"No no no no no, I'm losing the feed!" cries the on screen Doctor as Donna watches on.

And suddenly, the wall panel bearing the video stream sparks violently and turns black. The current Doctor heaves a sigh of relief, staggering back to lean against the opposite wall. Stashing away the sonic, he slides down until he is once again sprawled on the ground. As he closes his eyes for a moment, he swears he hears a faint whisper:

_Almost there. _

But when he jolts up, there is nothing but another blanks expanse of hallway.

"Please," he says softly. "Stop this." But the white room remains unhelpfully apathetic to his plight. Instead, it boots up the next panel.

The Doctor's head snaps up, following the only color besides himself in the room. A flash of red momentarily blinds the camera.

No. Not here. Not now. _No. _The key weighs a ton and half in his pocket.

"Raggedy Man!"


	5. Amy

Amy Pond whirls around in front of the camera, now displaying a different control room. Rory follows calmly behind her, content with just being near her. Never mind the different dimensions, the victories, the alien worlds; the Last Centurion desires only his wife's company. The Doctor supposes it is an echo, a habit of waiting for her for two thousand years.

"Rory! When the Doctor gets back from God knows where, should we go for lunch? Paris, maybe? He's always saying the city peaked in 2060." She dances back into frame, a light scarf trailing behind her. "Do you suppose we could pick up River?" All her playfulness instantly drains and is replaced with a sort of hesitancy.

"I dunno," replies the man. "I suppose, timelines and such. After Berlin..."

"It would sort of put a damper on lunch if she kept trying to kill him, yeah." Amy flops into one of the seats, all red hair and gangly limbs. Inside the white corridor, the Doctor aches for her. To take her hand, to whisk her off to Paris, to pat Rory on the back, to get River along for the ride. He still owes them a family outing. Now he will never get the chance.

"It's just," Amy struggles with the words, "what do we _do _now, with River, I mean? Suppose she pops up every once in a while, but still... I wanted to _raise_ her, Rory. With you. I wanted to sit in a garden in Leadworth and tell her stories of a man in a blue box. I wanted to teach her to read and to – I don't know – play the piano. I wanted a life for her that was simpler than ours."

Amy pulls her legs up and hugs them to her chest, resting her chin on her kneecap.

Rory moves to lean on the railing next to her, placing his arm around her shoulders. "I know."

They stay like that for a moment, his Ponds, trying to work out what their lives will become now. The Doctor stands in front of the screen, close enough to touch. _I'm here, _he wants to shout to them, _I'm sorry! Let me help!_

"I'm going to see where he's gone off to," says Rory finally, removing his arm and glancing around the TARDIS. He gives Amy a quick kiss on her cheek and walks out of frame, presumably down the stairs. Alone, she continues to stare at the console for a moment before getting up from the chair.

Advancing to the panel containing the camera, Amy stares up at the time rotor. "I met you once," she says quietly. "When you were a woman. You knew everything. Even who River was. She's your daughter, too, in a way. You keep records, I've seen them. So show me River. What happens to her?"

When nothing happens, Amy groans in frustration and pounds her fist onto the console. The Doctor winces for both his TARDIS and his companion. Amelia Pond. The Girl Who Waited. Sitting in her garden waiting for a man who would be twelve years in coming. His hearts almost ripping themselves to shreds, his vision begins to warp at the edges, the pools of tears giving her image a heavenly glow.

"Amelia," he says thickly. Time streams be damned. He was not going to watch as she cries by herself. Time had prevented him from holding her as she died, from being there when she had needed him most. He will not abandon her now.

On screen, she looks up, the tracks of tears still wet on her cheeks. "Doctor?"

"Pond!" he says, taking the last step and pressing his hands against the screen. A gasp is echoes on each side of the screen as a curious feeling overtakes the Doctor. He can still feel his hands against the wall panel, and yet...

He is standing in the warm glow of the console room, facing Amy Pond. This is no image on a screen. Looking down, he sees two legs and a torso formed out of crackling static. Almost like a TARDIS voice-interface system.

"Doctor?" repeats Amy, staring at the projection.

"Amy!" he breathes, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand. She recoils a bit. Naturally. He should have realized. "Really, it's me. I swear to you, I am real. Fish fingers and custard, yeah?" He tries smiling, but the Doctor is also keenly aware that he too has been crying and the evidence is still present on his face. His arm swings back to his side.

"You're not the Doctor. Rory just went to fetch him, and you are _not_ him." Amy eyes him suspiciously, not fond of being found in a venerable situation.

"I'm from the future," he tries. "Far in the future."

Her eyes narrow. "How far?"

"I – I just visited you, in your garden. The second time," he adds, watching as her eyes widen. "You haven't told your version of me yet, I know. You will, though, someday."

"When? When do I tell you, then? I have _no_ immediate plans to tell him anything." She relaxes a tiny bit, but is still a little tense.

"Amy, you know I can't – spoilers." She flinches from the word like a physical slap and he instantly regrets his casual use of the phrase.

"Prove it. Prove you're from the future. What happens with River and... us." Her voice quivers ever so slightly and his hearts break all over again.

"She lives a good, long life. You two... have a very strong bond. You always have. You – you give her away at her wedding." He tries to maintain a poker face for the last statement.

"River gets married? To whom?" Amy asks, leaning on the console for support. "She was a baby four months ago. My baby," she adds quietly, her eyes downcast.

He shakes his head. "It has to be lived," he replies gravely, repeating his wife's words from Byzantium.

Amy crosses her arms. "Okay. Why are you so happy to see me?"

"I'm always happy to see you, Pond," the Doctor tries to say lightly, smiling a bit.

"No, this," she gestures to his static form and tearstained face, "is _not _normal for you. You never cry."

His laugh is more of a quiet sob. Oh, Amelia, to believe him so strong, so clever. They had obviously not found themselves at the hotel yet. Her faith in him is still unbreakable.

"I'm not travelling with you anymore, am I?"

The Doctor's head jerks up to see Amy gauging his reaction carefully. Clever Pond, oh, dear. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you look too happy to see me, because you're crying, and because if I was still around you'd be sobbing over future me's shoulder. But you're not. You're here. Sort of." Her arms are crossed and her expression sober. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Even if that was true, you know I couldn't say." He shouldn't be here. He should disable the visual link. He should walk away, back to his hall of terrors.

"Doctor." Amy stares at him firmly. She has finally accepted him. "I don't know what's happened. I don't know when or where you are. But I want you to know that I do not blame you for anything. Not for Melody, not for Rory's deaths, and someday, not for mine. I knew what I was signing up for when I asked to come. And you beating yourself up over everything isn't going to help anyone." Amy takes a step closer to him. She stares directly into his eyes and, after a moment of silence, continues in an impossibly gentle voice. "Raggedy man, go save a planet for me. Go help someone. Do it for me. Or find someone else worth doing it for."

And suddenly, the Doctor knows something is wrong. He is acutely aware of the feeling of his hands pressed up against the walls. His static form begins to cut out.

"Doctor?" asks Amy, staring in horror at his fading image. "You can't go."

"Amy!" the Doctor responds with equal panic. No, _no _he cannot lose her, not again. He stretches out a hand for her, as if he is made of flesh and blood and could somehow hold on. The TARDIS begins to lurch, unhappy with time being rewritten. "_Amy!_"

The console room tilts so that his fiery-haired companion leans toward him. "Doctor!" And she releases her grip on the console, falling towards him.

Mercy. There is such a thing as mercy, the Doctor realizes. Because for a moment, he catches her. It shouldn't be possible, with him being a projection, but he manages. His body turns solid for a split second to break her fall. He could not catch her in Manhattan, but here in the malfunctioning TARDIS, the Doctor stops her from crashing into the rail. She throws her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder as he does the same to her. In his ear, he hears her muffled whisper, which is quiet for her being so close.

"_You are forgiven, Raggedy Man. From now until forever._"

And he is tossed back, hitting the blank white walls of his prison with a terrible crack. The panel in front of him is as blank and unforgiving as ever. "No," he breathes, struggling to stand. "_No! _NO!" Pounding on the panel, he weeps. In his struggles, Amy's key fall from his coat pocket, dancing along the white-washed floor. The Doctor stops at the light tinkling sound, staring at the tiny silver reminder of what he has lost. Getting to his knees, the old man in the young body carefully retrieves the last remnant of the girl whose loss is still stingingly fresh.

He expects this is the end. He has, after all, already lived the rest. So when the next panel illuminates with the inside of the TARDIS – his current console room, full of blue circuitry – his hearts freeze. Because the Doctor and the TARDIS have a rule, a contract of sorts. The Doctor's future is off limits.

But not today. Today is free game.

Kneeling on the floor on all fours, scraping a tiny key into his hand, the Doctor stares in horror at the scene that unfolds before him.

"Clara, come on, we're going to be late!"


	6. Clara

Two figures flash past the camera. One he recognizes – his own gangly profile dragging another figure behind him. But the other...

"No!" hisses the Doctor of the forbidden white room. "Don't show me this!" Desperately, he squeezes his eyes shut and slams his hands over his ears. As if in retaliation, the TARDIS ramps up the volume.

"Late? But this is a _time _machine!" the girl's voice responds with a confused laugh.

"Yes, but sometimes the best places are time-locked!" he hears himself respond jubilantly.

"Locked? As in locked out?" Judging by the sound of levers being pulled, they are approaching the camera's panel once more.

"No, well, technically yes, but _still,_ if you're _clever _enough..."

"And you're clever, are you?" the girl asks playfully.

The Doctor looks up at the screen, peeking like a child, just in time to see himself pop into frame.

"The cleverest," the on screen Doctor says with a smile for the mysterious girl on his right.

"Well, oh-cleverest-one, I think you've done something wrong. Unless there's supposed to be a blinking red light when you're piloting." The Doctor on screen stares at where the current Doctor assumes the girl is pointing. His boastful nature slips from his face, replaced instantly by a look of weariness.

"Clara, away from the camera, quickly," he says quietly, disappearing from frame as he relocates the girl. Faintly, the current Doctor hears their conversation.

"To your room, I'll fetch you when this is handled."

"I'm not frightened!"

"I didn't say you were. But I need to do this. Please. Five minutes."

When the Doctor returns on-screen, he tiredly pulls out his sonic and waves it over the camera. Stashing it away in his coat, he sighs heavily and rests his elbows on the console. "Hello, Doctor."

When the Doctor in the white hall doesn't answer, the on screen version says with another sigh, "It's alright. We can talk. No spoilers here. You're in the room, aren't you?"

The Doctor glances around his white prison and swallows. "Yes."

"Thought so. How are you?" he asks, running his fingers through his hair.

"Ready to leave," responds the current Doctor instantly.

"I can tell you how, but even then, you've got one last barrier. It will hurt."

"Doesn't everything?" asks the Doctor with a tired smile. The two share a light chuckle for a moment.

"Well, then, Doctor, if you're ready to be moving on..."

"Who is she?"

The on screen Doctor freezes. "I – can't say. You know I can't."

"I thought we agreed, no more," presses the current Doctor. "Not after Amy and Rory."

"Times change," says the Doctor gravely. "We have to hurry. This feed will cut out soon. Take Amy's key and throw it into the darkness at the end of the hall. It will activate the – the last obstacle. Then you should be able to get out... if you decide you want to."

"Of course I _want_ to – what do you mean by that?"

The two men with the same face stare at each other. Finally...

"Spoilers."

And the feed cuts out.


	7. The Darkest Room: Part I

The Doctor remains in front of the panel, staring up at the blank expanse of wall. Almost unconsciously, he fingers the tiny silver key in his hands. His brain is too full – the knowledge of this new companion, whoever she may be, weighs heavily on him. His hearts are torn shreds beneath his skin, he is almost certain.

Too tired to come up with an alternative, the Timelord pivots to face the dark expanse at the end of the hall. Running his finger over the key one last time, the Doctor throws it into the darkness as a child might skip a rock. He hears the tiny metallic tinkling as it skids into the unknown.

Hearts thundering inside his chest, the Doctor waits for his escape. A trap door, if he is lucky, another panel at worst...

So when he hears footsteps, he understands that he is all out of luck today.

Slowly emerging from the inky blackness, an impossible figure walks toward him calmly, as if they are meeting for coffee or happened to pass by each other on the street. She walks until they stand only a meter apart, the Doctor staring hopelessly and the woman smiling slightly.

"No..." he breathes.

"What a lovely greeting, dear. You're only growing more romantic with age." She stops, giving him time, and continues for the sake of tradition. "Hello, Sweetie."

"River," he says softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder, as if to make sure of her presence. The hurt is obvious on his face as she takes a step back.

"Sorry, Sweetie. You can't touch me; I'm only a projection." River's face crumples slightly as the Doctor's shoulder slump once more. "You're almost out, I swear. I'm here to help. There's just one more to go."

When he makes no acknowledgement of her words, she closes the distance between them and tries to take his hand in her own. Of course, it slides right through with a quiet bought of static, but it is enough to gain his attention. "Follow me. You're almost there."

Obediently, like a lost child, he follows her into the darkness without a backwards glance at the white prison behind him. For a time, River is the only thing he can see; lost in a black nothing, he could be anywhere. He follows exactly where her feet touch the invisible floor, as if he might fall off an unknown bridge. Mostly he stares at the tips of his shoes, simply because looking at her hurts too much. Another ghost he can almost touch. He wonders if a panel for her would have been any worse.

So when he looks up and sees white, he assumes it is River's figure. But a second glance reveals a white room approaching. Not sterile or lifeless like the hall, but a subdued area colored in light tones. There are overstuffed couches and alabaster wood and glass tables with white candles. The angles are sharp and modern, but each piece of furniture could be from a hundred different eras. Everything meshes harmoniously and the glass reflects the dull candlelight. It is much longer than it is wide, much like a stretched out hallway.

And not a single person is there.

River approaches the seam between the two worlds, and when she passes through, something about her changes. Her outline solidifies and her colors take on shadows to match the room. She turns around to face him, smiling broadly, and holds out her hand.

"I think you'll find this a bit more to your liking."

The Doctor takes the last step, shuddering slightly as he passes through some invisible veil. Warily, he reaches up to meet River's outstretched hand. This time, when his hand encloses around hers, she is solid and warm and _real._ He rushes toward her and takes her by the waist, twirling her for a moment and getting lost in her endless curls.

"Honestly, Sweetie, behave. We'll have guests in a moment," she chides gently, laughing and straightening his bowtie.

The Doctor looks around self-consciously, but the room is still as empty as ever. "Guests?"

"It's your party," she says as though he ought to know this. "Come on."

Taking him by his hand, she draws him behind her. But the moment the Doctor's shoe touches the light marble tile –

They show up.

With each step he takes, they appear, at first like mirages, then with more substance, until he would swear they were always sitting there, flesh and blood. People who had never met, lounging on the sofas and laughing at each other's stories and smiling at him as he passes.

There is Susan chatting with Adric as he sits at the foot of an armchair, stroking K-9.

There is Jack, leaning against a table, flirting with Tegan.

There is Vastra eyeing Jackie from across the room and saying something quietly to Jenny to make her laugh.

Each step brings more people back from the grave. He stares at them, trying to hang back to drink it all in, but River tugs him firmly along. Everyone seems happy to see him, if not terribly surprised. A few people raise a glass to him as he passes before resuming their conversations.

Another step – surely this room is endless to hold so many people – brings forth a group squished into one of the loveseats, everyone clustered around a glass coffee table. It takes a moment for their figures to take shape, but they come in laughing as if in the middle of a hilarious joke. Rose Tyler, wiping tears from her eyes from laughing too hard, lightly punches the man next to her: a tall, lanky, half-Timelord in a blue suit.

"And then – no, wait, this is the best part – then he says to me, 'Well I could have sworn you said flannel'!" Her audience – a motley crew from his past, including Strax and Jo – burst into further fits of hysteria.

"You are quite amusing for human scum," praises Strax fondly, recovering as much as he can.

Rose is no longer listening; instead, she stares past Strax's head. "Doctor!" Her wide smile only gets bigger as her own Doctor helps her up from her seat. The two move around their company to meet the Doctor and River in what he assumes is the walkway; it divides the two halves of the room with activity humming on both sides. Tables, paintings, couches, glass pianos... there appears to be an endless amount of furniture to fill the space.

"You look good," says Rose, reaching up to hug him as River steps back to give them room. Rose pulls back and smiles at him, absorbing his features as much as possible before he leaves.

"Still, the bowtie, though..." the half-Doctor says with a slight grimace.

Rose smacks him playfully. "I love it."

"You really can't say anything, mister," chimes in Martha from their right. She sits with Mickey and the Brigadier, drinking from a flute of champagne. "Have you seen you? You couldn't be let out of the house before your missus started dressing you."

That causes another round of laughter from both sides of the hall. Rose's Doctor blushes and gives a good-natured bow.

"I don't mean to rush you," says River quietly from her place behind the group, "but I need to keep him moving, Rose."

"Yeah, 'course," says Rose a bit too quickly, glancing up at him. "Yeah. He – he shouldn't dawdle. See you, Doctor." She turns around and makes her way back to her seat, refusing to meet his eyes. When the Doctor glances back behind him, Rose is crying softly into her Doctor's shoulder as he stares grimly ahead.

"What is this place?" asks the Doctor, doing a double-take as he notices Winston Churchill chatting with John Riddell and Nefertiti. "What's that?" he adds, watching a wisp of what appears to be regeneration energy dance around the room, occasionally twisting around certain individuals. He watches as Wilfred Mott freezes in the middle of a conversation with Donna until one of what now appear to be hundreds of wisps brushes past him. As soon as the energy passes, he resumes his storytelling as if nothing has happened.

"I'm not the one to answer that," says River uncertainly. "I'm taking you to someone that will sort everything out for you."

The Doctor glances over him shoulder at Donna, who turns to him with a sad smile. _Go, _she mouths to him. _We'll talk later._ With a little shooing motion, she turns back to her grandfather's story.

"Here we are," says River suddenly with palpable relief. The Doctor's most recent step has triggered the formation of another three figures, all of whom stand talking with glasses of wine – white, of course.

"Mother, I hate to pull you away," says River, dragging the Doctor towards the small group, "but..."

"No problem," Amy replies, handing her glass to Rory. "Hold this, will you? I'll be back in a moment. Lovely story as always, Sarah." Sarah Jane Smith smiles knowingly and raises her glass to the Doctor and Amy. "Look after him, Melody," Amy adds as she switches places with her daughter.

Rivers returns the smile and stands next to her father as they begin another round of storytelling.

Amy walks away from the group and the Doctor follows, memorizing everything about her. The gentle swish of her red hair, the sound of her shoes on the marble floor, the way she continues to push her ill-fitting glasses up her nose. She stops only once to embrace Vincent, who has struck up a conversation with Brain Williams. Otherwise, she remains silent, without a glance in the Doctor's direction.

Beginning to wonder if he has done something wrong, he increases his pace so as to walk beside her. "Amy, are you cross with me?"

She continues to stalk forward, her rather forced smile never wavering. Barely moving her lips, she murmurs to him, "I'll let you know when we can talk freely." She renews her smile and nods to a group of Timelords as she walks past.

"Are we in danger?" asks the Doctor in the same conspiring tone.

Amy stops suddenly and turns to face him. "Pretend you and I are having a conversation," she instructs softly.

"Okay..." says the Doctor, now thoroughly confused. The Girl Who Waited smiles softly, fixes his bowtie, and leans into him for a polite hug. Whispering into his ear, she breathes, "The only danger here is you. We need to get you out of here. Quickly."

Then she steps back, smiles once more, and continues walking forward. "Come on, Doctor," she adds with a quick glance over her shoulder.


	8. The Darkest Room: Part II

There is a wall behind him, he is almost positive. His back is pressed against a flat surface. Finally. The end of the hall. But he has sworn to Amy not to look at it. Perhaps it is his exit.

She stands a meter or so in front of him and off to the side, keeping a careful distance. Except for her quick embrace earlier, the vivacious ginger had not spoken a word to him.

The silence breaks like shattering glass, the unexpected sound of her accent almost making him jump.

"What do you see, Doctor?"

He takes a few steps forward, pushing himself off the wall he is not allowed to look at for one reason or another. The Timelord stands beside her, near the top of the staircase they had climbed to reach this point. Each step is adorned with candles and glows softly; for some reason, this particular area is very sensitive to him. Every time he takes a step, a faint echo of his footprint shines on the tile, fading slowly. Footprints on a beach, washed away by an invisible tide. But only him. Where ever Amy treads, the marble floor does not react.

He stands next to his best friend, overlooking the long hall. Thousands of figures crowd into small clusters, talking and laughing, while the mysterious golden light flits around the room.

"I see almost every person I have ever known in one, impossible place," the Doctor replies gravely. "And I would like to know why."

"Don't worry, we can talk now," she says, relaxing visibly and taking a seat on the top stair. She pats the empty space next to her, gesturing that he should sit with her. No longer cold and distant, she is once again just Amy from Leadworth. "You've got questions."

"Who are these people?" he asks, taking a place next to her.

"They're your friends. Everyone who has ever touched any part of the TARDIS – a key, a console, the outside – they end up here. The TARDIS, she saves us all in a database."

"You're not real," he says, the sound of his heart breaking bleeding into his short comment. He stares at her with shining eyes, a child betrayed by his parents.

"Don't be like that. I'm real enough." She reaches over and takes his hand. "I've still got all my memories and such."

The Doctor sniffs, his likeness to a child increasing tenfold. "What's the light? It looks like – "

"Regeneration energy? It is, sort of. It's the TARDIS, updating us. All of time and space, she follows our time streams and keeps us up to date. The longer we're in here, the more updates we need to keep us... functioning."

When he doesn't say anything, Amy continues, "Like this morning, I got an update about the real Amy Pond. She's in Manhattan, yeah? And my son, Anthony, his second birthday was today. He couldn't figure out how to blow out the candles, so Rory had to help him." She smiles slightly at the memory.

"All of you, I thought you were lost, but you're all _in here. _Two doors down, this entire time," the Doctor says, his eyes scanning the hall.

"There you go, you're catching on," Amy says, smiling tightly and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"But there's one thing I don't understand. I talked to a future version of myself. He said I'd have to get through another obstacle to get to the exit. And I have the funniest feeling the exit is right behind us. You don't seem like an obstacle."

Amy clears her throat, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Well, time can be rewritten, right? Now, do you want to get out of here or not?"

"Yeah, 'course I do, Pond," the Doctor says with a wide smile. He helps hops up, displacing Amy. "So, when can I visit again, hm? This room doesn't have a timer, or anything, right? Now that I know how to get here without the time panels, it'll be much better, I won't be such a wreck next time. Maybe I'll bring us some fish fingers and custard! Or I could work on the matrices and see if I could download you lot and let you see some other places outside this room! How would you like that, Pond?"

But when he looks up from his ramblings, Amy looks far from thrilled. She won't look him in the eye and something is sparkling on her cheek. He rushes over to her, taking her face in his hands and brushing away her tear. "Amy? What's wrong?"

"It doesn't work like that," she says softly.

"What doesn't work like that?" he asks, a creeping sense of dread stealing over his hearts.

"The room. Us. All of us." He freezes, only his hearts beating as they work overtime to compensate for everything else's lack of movement.

"Explain."

"Can't you just go?" she asks, her voice wavering dangerously. "The door is right there. Please." The Doctor turns, the ice in his hearts jabbing painfully. There is a wall, all right, and an exit. Unconsciously, he takes a step away from Amy and one closer to the door.

A silver door, with the word _Ponds_ scrawled along its surface and Rory's warning underneath.

"Do what you came here to do. Lock us up and move on, Raggedy Man." He looks back at her, a look of pure horror on his face. Her tearstained stare carefully gauges his reaction.

"Explain this, you explain this right now, Amelia Pond!" he demands, walking back towards her.

"You can't come back," she whispers softly, closing her eyes. "I think you knew that already."

"But you'll still be here! I can find a way to get you out!" the Doctor says desperately, the rage draining from him and more tears taking its place.

"No. We exist because you're here. We're like trash, already thrown away, but waiting in the bin. Waiting for you. When you leave, the trash gets taken out. We get deleted," she explains in the same quiet voice, her eyes pressed shut.

"Then how can I leave?" asks the Doctor pitifully, taking her hands in his. "How can I leave?" he repeats quietly.

Her eyes fly open; the fire that has always characterized Amy rekindles with a passion. "Because you're the _Doctor_. Because we are just ghosts and there are real, breathing _people _out there who need you, Raggedy Man!"

"I can't ," he says, trembling. "I can't kill you all again."

"Doctor, there is a time to live... and a time to sleep. Some of us have been here too long. We're tired. I have a son, in New York, that I will never meet. He was never saved by the TARDIS. I remember everything about him. Right now, in 1949, I'm reading him a bedtime story from a book I've never even held. His first word was "Daddy" and tonight he has a fever. And I can't hold him." Her tears have restarted. She brushes them away angrily. "I love him so much and I can never speak to him. We are not the people you lost, Doctor. We're their ghosts."

"But..."

Her hands shaking as well, Amy reaches inside his pocket and draws out his sonic. "We're not here, Doctor. Not in this room. We're _alive_."

She presses a button on the sonic and the room begins to static. Suddenly, everything around him disappears. He's standing in a busy street surrounded by infinitely tall buildings. People swarm past him, oblivious to his existence. And then he sees them. Rory and Amy, a small boy in between them, walking across the street. They all hold hands, swinging the boy occasionally between them. Laughing.

_We're alive, Doctor._

With a sudden _crack,_ New York vanishes and he's in a small house. Rose and her Doctor sit across from each other at a small breakfast table, each reading the paper and sipping coffee. The half human Doctor absent-mindedly reaches across the table and Rose takes his hand without looking up from her paper.

_We're living our lives every day._

_Crack_. A supermarket. Martha reads off their shopping list as Mickey heaves two gallons of milk into the cart.

_To you, we seem dead. _

_Crack_. A warm living room. Donna bosses Shaun around as he assembles a cabinet.

_But we're not._

_Crack_. A nursery. Sally Sparrow lifts a young toddler from a crib and places her on her hip.

_We aren't bunches of pixels in a TARDIS. _

_Crack. _Susan reading. _Crack. _Jack typing something into a computer. _Crack. _Sarah Jane planting flowers.

_We're out there. In the past, but still alive. _

_Crack. _Amy Pond is standing in front of him, holding his sonic screwdriver. "Do you understand, Doctor?"

The Doctor nods silently, wiping something from his eye.

"You have to go." She tucks his sonic back into his jacket. "You're going to need to be brave, but I'm not worried." Taking his hands, she slips something into his palm and closes his fingers around it. "We will love you always, no matter what." He opens his hand. Cradled in his palm is Amy's silver key. The key to their room. His escape. "And that goes for all of us."

He looks up at her smile and then glances to his left for one last look at the hall. A quiet gasp escapes him as he looks out over the crowd of people who have ventured from their places in the hall to congregate around the stairs. An endless sea of familiar faces that all smile at him. Several give him a salute and more than a few wave sadly. Rose, clinging to her Doctor, smiles through her tears.

He turns back to Amy and has the most irrelevant thought. Panicking slightly, he says "Amy. Your glasses. I left them in your garden."

She smiles at his expression and then removes her glasses. Folding them up, she slips them into his tweed pocket. "For luck, Raggedy Man." She places her hand on his cheek and smiles sadly before turning and joining the crowd. She takes a place next to Rory and River, taking her husband's hand.

He clears his throat and says thickly, "Thank you. All of you." His statement is received with a few nods and more smiles.

The entrance of the hall is no more than a black speck, but the Doctor watches as, like a black hole, all the golden TARDIS energy flows towards it. There is a quiet _boom_ and the floor quivers beneath his feet. Like a great tidal wave, the golden light pours from the entrance where the blackness has been lost in the endless gold.

As it approaches, he watches as the wave crashes over the crowd. No one flinches or tries to run. They simply close their eyes and continue to smile. Not dying or disappearing – just going home. The room itself begins to fade as well, crumbling away in microscopic pixels where the energy touches the walls. The wave finally crashes over the first row, returning the Ponds to a string of computer code. The room succumbs to empty blackness, the stairs crumbling. Finally, the energy and hungry darkness stops just meters from where the Doctor stands. From the wall of golden mist forms a figure that steps toward him. The outline is vaguely human, but the energy doesn't stand still enough to create a solid figure. First she looks like Rose, then like Susan, then Martha and Amy and River and Donna. By the time she reaches him, the Doctor cannot even tell who she is supposed to be. Perhaps she is someone he cannot recall, or someone he has yet to find. Whoever she is, she places her hands on his shoulders and reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss him gently on the forehead.

_Brave heart, my Thief_.

She dissolves into a swirling mist of TARDIS energy that circles gently around him. Slowly, he turns and makes his way to the door. Behind him, the floor disappears into nothingness. Just as before. The only way out is forward.

He inserts the silver key into the lock and the door swings open.

Without looking back, he steps over the threshold and into the Ponds' room, closing the door behind him.

Everything is just how they left it, the bed unmade and the closet ransacked. He looks around and treads carefully, as if not to disturb the chaos. He pauses at one of the shelves. Carefully, he pushes aside the dusty picture frames – one of him and River in Barcelona, the other of the entire family in a city called Gwag in a distant star system – and picks up Amy's old handmade TARDIS. Just as always, he will take one souvenir for his room of memories. He will put it on a shelf and lock the door and try not to think of what he is doing.

Having gotten what he came for, the Doctor opens the door once more. Something deep inside him wishes for a moment to see a pale hall, to see everyone waiting for him –

But he is greeted with a blue-circuited corridor. Even the doors of his old companions are gone from their earlier position.

He takes a step forward into the hall in the direction of the console room, when suddenly –

There is nothing but darkness.


	9. TARDIS

_My thief. _

_Poor, poor thief. He wanders, and is lost. The Orangey Girl and the Pretty One are gone, and he is – was, will be – lost. _

_I know not why he cries. Why he cleans things that are already clean. Why he reads so slowly. Why he will not fly me to where he needs to go. _

_Instead, he sits. He sits and mopes and doesn't wander far from the console. _

_He _needs_ the room. _

_But he will not go. He is stubborn. I place it in his path. He walks around it. I replace his precious swimming pool with it. He uses another. _

_Stubborn, stubborn thief. _

_Finally, he goes to lock up, and I know this is my only chance. Oh, thief. The hearts must hurt to heal. _

_He goes through the hall without grace. He curses at me, begs my mercy. _

_Thief, this is my mercy. _

_I send him the Child, but he is still displeased. _

_When he enters the white room, I watch him closely. My thief and his strays. Not real, of course, just copies, just back-ups that weigh down my system. But I keep them for him. When he is not watching, I drift around him. I remember being human as I brush past his hand. _

_He stays too long. Orangey Girl tells him to leave. I hold the darkness away as long as I can. _

_Finally, he leaves. He does not know, but the room will be good for him. In time, he will be better. _

_But the room has operated out of my control. It has showed him his future. He must not remember. _

_When he leaves the old room, I knock him out. Poor thief. I relocate him to the console room. _

_I use the psychic link to sort through his memories. I remove the room. _

_Wake up, my thief. _

Wake up.


	10. Afterword

A group of children, shrieking in laughter, cut across his path. One little girl with red hair escaping from her bonnet bumps into the man.

"Sorry Mister," she lisps, running after the others.

The Doctor nods absently, tightening his scarf around his neck. It is one of the coldest winters ever to hit the 1890s. Ankle-deep in snow, the old man trudges onward.

There was really no avoiding this now. He has locked up their room – although he cannot quite recall everything – and placed Amy's TARDIS on one of his many cluttered shelves. He also knows that somehow...

He entered the forbidden room.

It's less of a certain fact more than a feeling he can't quite shake, like someone is watching him. He woke up in the console room with Amy's key grasped tightly in his hand and tear tracks staining his cheeks. Whatever happened, a part of him is happy not to remember. The other part, of course, feels cheated out of his last glimpse of the Ponds' room. But life marches on, unrelenting and unbearable.

He double checks the address on a slip of parchment and raps his knuckles against the wooden door he has finally come upon. There is a quiet squabbling on the other side of the door before it swings open.

"Greetings, Sir. Welcome to the foreign and hostile planet of London," says Strax with a short bow.

The shock at seeing the Sontaran alive is only a slight blow to the Timelord. "Strax?"

Jenny pushes the short creature out of the way. "Will you stop that? You're going to scare the living daylights out of someone if you keep that up!"

"You _offered_ that I come to your residence. I am performing standard duties of a _butler_," snaps Strax, swiveling to stare at the young woman.

"Don't mind him, Doctor. It's good to see you. Where's Amy and Rory?" she continues cheerfully. When she notes the empty space behind him, her grin falls quickly off her face.

"Gone," croaks the Doctor softly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I see," Jenny says, missing a beat. "Sorry." She looks awkward for a moment before surprising them both by throwing her arms around him. The embrace lasts for no more than a second before she is standing once more on the threshold, brushing off her skirt, warm embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

But it lasts long enough for the Doctor to feel something pressed against his chest that is not his sonic. Oblivious, he opens up his tweed coat and searches the inside pocket. His hand closes around an oddly shaped object. Fishing from his coat, the Doctor pulls out...

Her glasses.

And just like that, the cold, apathetic man breaks down into loud, wrenching sobs that shake his frame. Vastra appears at the door, gently pushing back her wife and alien butler. Softly, she extends a gloved hand to lift up his chin. They stare at one another for a moment, tears streaming from the old man's eyes, before the lizard woman says shortly:

"Jenny, kindly fetch us some tea." Turning back to the pathetic figure before her, she adds, "Old friend, come in. I believe we have much to discuss."

The Doctor nods, and, with trembling hands, places Amelia's glasses on the bridge of his nose. He vividly remembers leaving them in her garden, but...

Once upon a time, he had told a plastic Centurion about miracles. He hadn't believed in them – he still doesn't – but he also knows not to question the universe. Miracles are the reverberations of space, of pure, messy time. They are everyone living and dying in the same moment. They are Rose's hand in his, Martha's comforting hugs, Donna's booming laughter...

Miracles are a woman with red hair and her son, strolling down Times Square. They are her stopping suddenly, her shopping bags swinging from the strings on her arms. They are her son asking her why they have stopped.

"My glasses." She stares off, her hand still wrapped around the boy's. "I left my glasses."

"They're on your nose, Mommy," observes the child, impatient to be moving on.

"No. My old glasses."

"Where'd you leave 'em?" he asks, revealing a missing front tooth.

She shakes her head as if clearing out a lifetime from in front of her yes. Turning and smiling down at him, she replies, "About sixty years in the future. I left them with a friend."

The boys simply shrugs, used to these sort of answers. "Can we go? Daddy's gonna take me fishing soon, remember?"

And so, sixty years from where Vastra and Jenny lead the Doctor into their home, Amelia Pond lifts Anthony Williams up on her hip and – out of habit – reaches to push her glasses up her nose.

These are the small miracles which began in the room he did not enter.

**A Note:** Thank you to everyone who took the journey with me through my first full-length fic. The Doctor Who fandom lives up to its name in courtesy, respect, and helpfulness. A special thanks to everyone who reviewed. A new story should be up soon – updates on Sundays (usually). _Thank you!_


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